What Really Happened
by Shamelsshussy
Summary: Betty had a thousand scenarios swimming in her head, full of hunger and hope. But the way it really happened was nothing like anything she had imagined.


**From a fic prompt I got on tumblr - what would a first mutual McAndrews kiss really be like? **

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She had imagined that when it happened, _if _it ever happened, it might only be after lots of talking and tearful confessions and a rehash of everything, from the piano bench to Ivan and all the dark days in between. Every misunderstanding explained, every misstep mended, and then they'd be ready for new and beautiful mistakes. Together.

Late at night in bed alone, she let herself think might happen on one of those long cold nights when they huddled together to drink tea and talk about those creeping evils in the world and how scared everyone was getting, and who knew what would happen next or how long joy lasted. And then their eyes would lock and they'd grab for each other, grasping to hold on to the happiness they had now.

At work, hours into a shift, when her hands moved without thinking and her mind wandered, she let herself think it might happen on the edge of jubilant crush of revelers celebrating the end of the war. Kate would find Betty in a corner, happy for the boys but glumly contemplating the end of her way of life. Kate would pull her into a shadow and press a lingering kiss to her mouth, pull back and smile, lean close again and whisper, "A new beginning".

Betty had a thousand scenarios swimming in her head, full of hunger and hope. But the way it really happened was nothing like anything she had imagined.

What really happened was that they came home after another long day at the factory. Summer was here in earnest now and a few girls from the boarding house hopped off the street car two stops early to stroll home through the warm evening.

Betty was tired and wanted to ride, but Kate pulled her to her feet and they got off with the other girls. Kate walked up with the others, catching up on gossip. Betty hung back to light a cigarette. As they approached the house, Kate waited for Betty and they approached the gate together, sharing the smoke.

What really happened was that they went inside and each went to their own room, to wash up and change. They came out and fixed sandwiches for dinner; Kate sliced the bread, Betty made the egg salad. The sandwiches weren't half bad, but Betty wished that they could have had real mayonnaise instead of making it up with potatoes and mustard. And the sandwiches would have been even nicer if all the pickles weren't shipped off to the soldier's rations these days.

Someone suggested a card game, and they all sat around and played few hands of gin rummy, and shared a few beers that last weekend's crop of soldier boys had left behind.

What really happened is that war news had been too grim, so some girls turned off the radio and played records instead. And the windows were open and a breeze blew through, and everything seemed fresh for once, so different from the dark damp winter they had just come through.

The game broke up after an hour or so, as girls floated off to their rooms to write letters or roll their hair. Kate put on a pot of tea and Betty remembered she had some crackers and they took their snack to Kate's room.

What really happened is that Kate put on some of her own records and hummed along and Betty sat at the vanity and fixed a few chips in her nail polish.

"What shall we do this Sunday?" Kate asked.

And Betty allowed herself a quick grin because they always spent Sundays together now, no question about it.

What really happened is that Betty suggested a picnic for Sunday and Kate smiled back and they talked a little about inviting Vera along with her beau of the moment, but then reconsidered because solider boys always wanted to get dates for their buddies.

"And it'll be so much nicer just us, and not to have to bother with...that." Kate decided.

What really happened is that Betty nodded and ducked her head so that her blush wouldn't show. And a few minutes later yawned and admitted it was late, she had better get to bed.

Kate had nodded absently, lost in her song. But as Betty moved to open the door Kate looked up, smiled, got to her feet.

"Goodnight, Betty."

And what really happened is that Kate took two steps forward and kissed her, a simple, soft, goodnight kiss, but right on the mouth, unmistakable.

Betty had been so surprised, she almost didn't respond. But Kate lingered so long, and she didn't want to give the girl the wrong idea. So she gathered her wits and kissed back, once, twice. These were not the greedy-starving kisses Betty dreamed up alone at night. These were gentle kisses, warm like the night breeze.

What really happened is that when they parted, Betty stared, her mouth slightly open, and Kate laughed nervously, dropped her gaze, touched her fingers to her lips.

And Betty had reached out, pulled Kate close, a little rough in her haste. She held her tight enough to feel the warmth of Kate's body through her dressing gown.

She leaned in and whispered "Goodnight, Kate."

What really happened is that Kate stayed still, a small smile on her lips, and Betty stumbled out into the hall.

One of the other girls walked past, glanced at her, noticed her pale face, the red burning high in her cheeks.

"You alright, Betts?"

Betty giggled. "Senssssational."

The girl raised and eyebrow and shook her head but continued on her way.

In her own room, Betty fell onto her bed, buried her face in her pillow and laughed some more.

What really happened is that she had been all wrong all along. This didn't have to be about redemption and rescue, heroes and humanity. This romance could exist on its own scale, separate from the war. It wouldn't be weighed in millions of lives and tons of metal but instead counted off in centimeters of soft skin, measured in the very very small distance from one sweet searching mouth to another.

What really happened is that this was real, after all.


End file.
